


Intoxication

by Havokftw



Series: I used to be indecisive, now I'm not sure. [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: ASMR, Alpha Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jihoon is drugged, Kissing, M/M, Midnight Sandwich Making, Omega Jihoon, Past Abuse, Prequel, Seungcheol takes care of him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: “I'm so glad you could make it, okay?" Jihoon says, staring brightly into Seungcheol's face with utter sincerity. His breath smells strongly of something sweet and alcoholic, and Seungcheol realises suddenly how very drunk Jihoon must be.Seungcheol lifts his eyebrows. “Jihoon—holy shit, you’re drunk.”Part 4 of the Jicheol ABO Series: Jihoon's a little out of it and Seungcheol steps in to take care if him.Set before 'Thirst' and after 'Taste' in the series.





	Intoxication

Seungcheol’s week ends with back to back assessments. On top of that he’s had football practice, an assignment to complete and a flat inspection his landlord just dropped on them.

So the thought of going to a crowded house party to celebrate Jeonghan’s birthday is singularly unappealing.

He’s sure Jeonghan won’t mind if he skips this, but he finds himself getting showered and dressed and half way across town to celebrate anyway.

There are a dozen reasons, really, but Jihoon is the only one that matters. Jihoon and the messy, hungry, impossible things Seungcheol feels— _wants_ —when he lets himself think about the small Omega too hard.

* * *

 

“You made it!” Jeonghan waves at him as Seungcheol steps through the door, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his grip that he relinquishes to the Birthday boy.

"Don’t drink it all at once, yeah?" Seungcheol says by way of greeting.

"Ah Cheol—you and Shua are literally the only ones who bought me a present," says Jeonghan. He rises from his chair to greet him with an arm swung around his neck. "I’m actually really happy you could make it. Because— _somebody_ has been asking about you _all night_. Come see.”

"Oh yeah?" Seungcheol says, following Jeonghan towards the back of the house. “Who?”

Jeonghan wiggles his brows. “Hasn’t your fantasy been to see Jihoon drunk?”

Seungcheol snorts at that, because, well, of fucking course that is his fantasy, but Jihoon never gets drunk.

Jihoon drinks wine by swirling it around in his mouth, or he nurses one beer for an entire night, or he tries not to grimace while he pretends to like the taste of whiskey. So Seungcheol is filing his drunk-Jihoon fantasies away as ‘Unachievable Except in Dreams’, like his kissing Jihoon fantasy and his Jihoon-agrees-to-date-me fantasy and sexy-times-with-Jihoon fantasy. 

And then he hears laughter. Animated, shouting voices, with Jihoon's carrying above them all. And not his indoor voice, either.

As he makes his way closer to the back of the house, he hears Jun: "Jihoon, I need you to sit down and take a few deep breaths, okay.”

"I swear I can do it this time," Jihoon insists. "Watch me!"

Seungkwan says, "Oh my god, stop him before he injures himself please."

And Soonyoung: "Jihoon, this is a bad idea and you're still kind of..."

"I can do it, watch!" Jihoon insists.

Seungcheol makes his way around the sliding doors in time to see Jihoon bend backwards and limbo under a broomstick held on either end by Soonyoung and Seungkwan.

Jihoon stumbles a little on the other end before catching himself and levelling up. He's grinning like a fool, colour high in his cheeks, his shirt rumpled and half untucked. Then he lifts his chin and attempts what looks like some kind of Flamenco pose.

" _Tequila,_ " he announces in a dramatic whisper.

It takes Seungcheol a second to get over how gobsmacked he is when he realizes that—that this is Jihoon. That’s his precious puddin.

“Show us your shadow puppet dance again Jihoonie.” Soonyoung calls out, and everyone cheers.

Seungcheol frowns and steps forward, edging through the crowd that has assembled around Jihoon. “Okay,” he says authoritatively. “That’s enough.” 

Everyone groans and then Jihoon notices him.

His face lights up in a flushed grin as he stumbles his way over, saying "Seungcheol! Oh my god— _hey_."

Seungcheol blinks, then blinks again. That’s the most effusive greeting he's ever gotten from Jihoon.

“Hi—Jihoonie.”

Jihoon overbalances and tips into Seungcheol’s chest, Seungcheol quickly catches him by the arms. Jihoon takes this as part of the greeting and leans in to air-kiss first one cheek, then the other. “How are you? I’m fine thanks, and you?” He asks and answers all at once.

“I'm so glad you could make it, okay?" Jihoon says, staring brightly into Seungcheol's face with utter sincerity. His breath smells strongly of something sweet and alcoholic, and Seungcheol realises suddenly how very drunk Jihoon must be.

Seungcheol lifts his eyebrows. “Jihoon—holy shit, you’re drunk.”

Jihoon bursts out into laughter, laughing so hard tears form in the corner of his eyes. Then in a flash, he’s calm again. “I think I might be. _Oh noooo!_ How will I drive my car home?”

“Jihoon—you don’t have a car, you don’t drive.” Jun points out.

“I don’t? Oh good. Cause, “ He pauses, leaning up to whisper into Seungcheol’s ear. “My driving licence is fake. It’s so fake.” He grins, eyes creasing. “But—shhh—don’t tell anyone. Okay?”

“I won’t.” Seungcheol says, wrapping an arm around Jihoon’s waist to hold him steady so that he doesn’t fall.

Jihoon clings to his shoulders, smile beatific. "Cheol! Listen, listen. I need to ask you something super important, Seungcheol. It's super important and I need you to be honest with me."

Seungcheol hasn't let go of his arms, because he's still wavering about. "Erm. All right."

"Seungcheol, tell me honestly. Do I have eyebrows?"

Seungcheol fights the urge to laugh, but he's the only one making the attempt. Seungkwan hides a giggle behind his hand, Jeonghan snickers, and Jun just plants his face into his palm.

"Yes, Jihoon," Seungcheol says. "You have eyebrows. Now let's go sit down, all right?"

"Because I really feel like I don't have eyebrows right now and I think that would look, it would look really stupid. I should draw some on. Somebody give me a marker."

“Here you go!” Soonyoung offers up a sharpie.

Jihoon reaches for the sharpie.

Seungcheol slaps the sharpie out of Soonyoung’s hand.

The sharpie falls to the floor.

Jihoon pouts.

“No—no sharpie eyebrows. You have eyebrows. No more eyebrows.” Seungcheol says sternly.

“But I want more eyebrows! I want all the eyebrows!” Jihoon says, with more than a hint of irritated petulance.

Without letting go of him, Seungcheol looks over Jihoon's head at Jun. "As amusing as this is, how much has he had to drink, exactly? And why would anyone let him drink this much?”

"Uhh..." Jun tries to wipe the smile off his face and shrugs his shoulders. "Umm, he is a little bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, but he’s usually careful with his intake. I’ve never seen him _this_ drunk before. It’s weird.”

"Jesus Christ," Seungcheol says. He's still got Jihoon hanging all over him, trying it seems to climb up onto his shoulders or something, grinning into his face like he’s the happiest person on the planet. It would actually be the best thing ever if he was sure it was safe, but as it is, he's not sure how long he can withstand this proximity to a clingy Omega without—without _touching_ him back a little.

Seungcheol tugs Jihoon over to a couch in the corner of living room, nudges a few cushions off and sets Jihoon down in it. Jihoon sinks into the couch, limbs splayed out like a starfish and stares unblinkingly at the ceiling.

“I thought you’d be happy to see him so pissed.” Jeonghan laughs.

Seungcheol frowns and takes a closer look at Jihoon. He’s troubled by the wide mouth that's open and panting for breath, the prominent pupil dilation and the sweat collecting at his temple, darkening his hair there and at the nape of his neck.

It's September, and not all that warm in the room despite the crowd. Seungcheol shifts closer to Jihoon and bends down to peer at him critically.

"I don't like the look of him," he says to Jeonghan.

"No?" Jeonghan smirks at him a little. "Well, he's not my type. A bit on the small side, but I always thought you..."

"You know what I meant," Seungcheol says. "He looks drugged. Have you guys been smoking anything?”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “Dude—you know what Jisoo’s like. He won’t let me bring that stuff inside.”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue. “Do you think it’s possible somebody slipped something into his drink?"

Jeonghan looks dumbfounded for a second. “I didn’t think of that. But it’s _possible_. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody tried to spike an Omega’s drink.”

Seungcheol growls at the thought. He turns to Jihoon, tapping his cheek lightly and turning his head to look him in the eye. "I'm going to ask you an important question."

"Cool," Jihoon says.

"I need your attention and I need you to think carefully about your answer."

"Okay, I'm thinking."

"I haven't asked you yet."

"Oh."

"You’re really out of it Jihoon, and I don’t think you're drunk. Somebody might have slipped you something." He waits for Jihoon's nod to continue. “What exactly did you have to drink?”

"Seungcheol," Jihoon stage-whispers, sitting up quickly and suddenly way too close. "Knock knock."

Oh, well. He’s not going to get anything useful out of him. Best thing to do is go along with it. "Who's there, Jihoon?"

"Your mom," Jihoon says, then caws out a raucous laugh. “Knock, Knock.”

“Who’s there?”

"The doctor."

Unable to help the smile pulling at his lips this time, he asks, "Doctor Who?"

"HA! Tricked you Cheol!" Jihoon says, pointing a finger in his face. "Knock knock!"

"Who's there?" Seungcheol says again, along with Seungkwan, who wants in on it.

"Orange," Jihoon says.

"Orange who?" they all ask. Soonyoung has taken out his phone.

"Orange you glad we're here together?" Jihoon says. He plucks at Seungcheol's shirt sleeve, looking so sincerely at him that Seungcheol has to smile back. "I’m having so much fun. Are you having fun? I’m so happy you’re here. I think about you when I'm alone."

That sends a sharp pang of warning to his gut; he has to shut Jihoon up immediately. He turns to see Seungkwan recording this on his phone.

"This is so priceless, wait till he sobers up, this is payback." Soonyoung says, grinning.

The indignation he feels on Jihoon's behalf is a surprise, even to him. "Stop," Seungcheol tells him. "I don’t think he’s drunk. I think he’s drugged on something, so it's not like he made the decision to get wasted and make an ass of himself. Turn it off and delete it."

Yes, it is amusing, and he'll probably remember this and smile, and yes, he'll probably tease the shit out of Jihoon about it one day. But the thought of someone humiliating Jihoon or using this against him makes Seungcheol feel a little ill.

"He would totally do the same to any one of us, we should enjoy it while we can!" Soonyoung grumbles, but he does turn the phone off.

"Not on my watch." Seungcheol tells him, before turning back to Jihoon, who’s whispering an urgent litany of, "Seungcheol. Cheol. Hey. Seungcheol. Hey. Cheollie. Hey. Hey."

"What, Jihoon?"

"I saw some Lego bricks earlier. We could build a Lego castle together." Jihoon says brightly.

Seungcheol smiles and shakes his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. We don't have a lot of space here to build a Lego castle.”

Jihoon frowns. "That’s tragic. It’s a shame there are so many people here. I wish they would leave so I could _build_ Lego with _you._ I _want_ to build _Lego_ with you— _all night long."_ His inflection is all wrong. It sounds like someone has removed all the punctuation from his sentences.

 _Is—building Lego a—euphemism for something?—_ Seungcheol wonders.

“You have really long eyelashes. I want to touch them.” Jihoon says, reaching his hand out towards Seungcheol's face."

Seungcheol catches his hand gently before he can do anything he's going to feel stupid about later. Stupid _er_.

Jihoon pouts, then giggles. “It’s okay, I’m not jealous. I should be jealous, but you know what, I can sing and play guitar. FACT. Knock knock."

Patience, Seungcheol reminds himself. None of this is Jihoon's fault. "Who's there?"

"My butt. LOL."

Soonyoung laughs again. "You're not supposed to  _say_  'LOL,' Jihoon."

Jihoon grins up at him. "I can do whatever I want. Your hair is floating. Can you fly. My face is hot. And I can't feel my eyebrows. Did someone shave them off."

“I see what you mean.” Jeonghan says, looking ponderous. “If he was drunk—he’d be slurring a lot more.”

"Cheol, hey—Cheol!" Jihoon says, patting him on the shoulder lightly, "do you want to dance with me?" He says suddenly. It's jarring and overly precise, like he's been working up to it.

Jihoon is looking at him now, strangely intent, and Seungcheol knows there's a right answer to this question and there's a wrong answer to this question, and even as he's considering what it would be like to slide his body in against Jihoon's, to put his hands on Jihoon's hips and guide him in some kind of rhythm as Jihoon winds his arms around his neck, maybe pressing them closer -- Seungcheol says,

"Let's go to the bathroom and freshen up. Maybe you can piss out what’s in your system.” As he helps Jihoon up.

"Are we going to the bathroom?" Jihoon asks, he tries to shed his jacket with a flourish, but it gets stuck on one arm. "Are we going to the bathroom  _together!_ Seungcheol! Oh god, no way dude. We can't! I can't pee with someone watching, I get stage fright."

"Don't worry, it’s okay." Seungcheol tells him. Surprisingly, Jihoon goes lax and lets Seungcheol take his jacket to drape over the back of the chair. It's alarming how well that worked. "There's nothing to worry about, I won’t make you piss if you don’t want to." Seungcheol tells him again. "Just come with me."

"Okay. You're nice," Jihoon tells him. "You’re always so nice to me when nobody else is."

There's too much affection in Jihoon's voice, too much weight in the words. And Seungcheol's not thinking right. He can't be. Because if he were, he would simply laugh it off. He would ignore the way Jihoon’s tone is warming him and making him ache.

Seungcheol leads him toward the bathroom in the back. Looking over his shoulder, he tells Jeonghan, "You should check your punch bowl—maybe tip out the contents just to be safe."

Jeonghan nods and goes to do just that.

Jihoon comes along quietly for a few seconds. Then he turns towards Seungcheol and says, "Am I in trouble?" in such a small voice that Seungcheol clenches his hand on his arm.

"No, of course not," he tells him. "Everything is fine. You’ve just had a little too much to drink—or reacted to something. You're not in trouble. You've done nothing wrong."

Jihoon relaxes against him, stumbling a little. "Oh, good. Fuck, I hate being in trouble. I hate it when people yell at me for things, I hate fucking up. I really try my best. It was bad in school but it was so much worse with my dad. He hated me."

Unable to think of anything he wants to say to that, he just keeps his arm around Jihoon as he leads him to the bathroom.

In the past, he'd wondered about Jihoon as a child in the same way he'd wondered about everyone: with idle curiosity. What made a person this thing or that thing? Seungcheol lives for understanding like this. It makes empathising with people easier. But this is too much information, and although he wants to know more about Jihoon now– this time he can't.

When Jihoon’s not sharing it freely—it's not worth anything to him and it's pointless. And it bothers Seungcheol. Kind of a lot.

"Nobody hates you Jihoon," Seungcheol tells him softly. "We’re all your friends here. We all care about you."

"Do you care about me?" Jihoon says, brightening.

Seungcheol gets him to the bathroom and pushes the door shut. “Of course. I care about you the most.”

Jihoon smiles and just leans into him. “Thanks.” He says, and tips his head onto Seungcheol’s shoulder. He's relaxed, pliant against Seungcheol’s chest, and his body feels very warm against Seungcheol’s. His breath feels even warmer when he tilts his face into Seungcheol’s neck, the tip of his nose touching Seungcheol’s throat.

The crown of Jihoon’s hair ruffles just below his nose, and Seungcheol breathes in sharply. Jihoon’s scent is sweet and ripe, with distinct layers of Pheromones that crawl into Seungcheol’s senses with a sharp shiver of arousal.

"Jihoon, I should--" says Seungcheol, trying to ignore it. He even tries to ignore the press of Jihoon's knuckles along the zipper of his jeans, tentative and soft. It's an unfamiliar touch, and not at all where he wants it. "Tired?" he asks instead.

"Not anymore," Jihoon replies. He shifts against Seungcheol, then, and Seungcheol feels the slide of Jihoon's cheekbone, his nose as Jihoon presses his mouth against the underside of Seungcheol's jaw. His lips are soft and careful and Seungcheol doesn't quite gasp, but he does feel something clench inside him, not quite prepared for the possibility of Jihoon's kiss.

"What are you doing?" he manages to ask.

Jihoon sighs against him in response, and kisses him again, lower, this time the arch of the muscle at the side of Seungcheol’s neck.

Seungcheol jerks his head away. "I think you should stop," he says. He can't be sure it doesn't sound as unsteady as he feels.

"Isn't this what you want?" Jihoon asks, as fluid as silk in his ear.

He's stands up a little straighter now, but his gaze is still unfocused, warm with intemperance and utterly unfamiliar.

 _Not like this_ —Seungcheol wants to say, but then Jihoon catches their reflections in the bathroom mirror and scowls.

“Oh—I’m sorry—I didn’t realise the bathroom was occupied.” He tells their reflections, then turns to Seungcheol and whispers. “Check out these dorks Cheol hogging the bathroom. Let’s kick their asses, show them who’s boss.”

“Jihoon—that’s _us_. That’s _our_ reflections in the mirror.” He chuckles.

Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, eyes somehow wide at the same time. He looks scandalised.

“Oh.” Slowly, he turns back to look in the mirror, reaches his hand out to trace his fingers down the surface. Seungcheol can't tell whose face he's trying to touch. “Hello.” He whispers.

Seungcheol runs a towel under the cold water, then offers it to Jihoon. When Jihoon just stands there blinking innocently at him, Seungcheol holds him steady with a hand behind his neck and wipes the sweat from his brow. Jihoon sighs happily and closes his eyes.

It feels nice, taking care of him like this. Keeping the Omega comfortable and close. Something inside of Seungcheol flutters pleasantly, though he knows the sudden affection Jihoon feels for him is out of place, borne of chemistry gone wrong. This open, happy, unguarded person is not Jihoon.

 _But maybe it is, in a way. This is just what's underneath._  True, but it took a cocktail of drinks and something dubious and the powering down of Jihoon’s social skills and impulse control to get there. It's not normal.

"Hmm," Jihoon sighs, then pulls away abruptly. Before Seungcheol can figure out what he's doing, Jihoon leans over the sink and ducks his entire head under the running water.

"Jihoon, your shirt," Seungcheol says before anything else, but the collar is already soaked, clinging to his pale skin.

But Jihoon just says "Hmm" again and turns his head slowly under the cold water, soaking his hair. “Wow. I can breathe—under water!”

"Right, that'll do," Seungcheol says. He shuts off the water and grabs a dry towel, placing his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder to hold him still while he dries him. "You're soaked and you’re going to get a cold, stand still.”

Jihoon straightens up and Seungcheol grabs another dry towel so he can dry his hair as best he can. Jihoon whines when Seungcheol wipes it over his face.

"Cheol," he says, muffled, "I can't see you with a towel over my face."

It catches up to him, finally, this random Jihoon, and Seungcheol leans back against the bathroom sink and starts to laugh. _Of fucking course_ Jihoon can't see him with a towel over his face.

He's so ridiculously adorable.

Once Seungcheol starts laughing, he can't seem to stop.

Jihoon peers over the top of the towel and once again shows him that good-natured, mega-watt smile. "I like that," he says, bashful.

Seungcheol wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. "What do you like, Jihoon?"

"Your laugh. You have a pretty mouth that should laugh. Your laugh is a rainbow, like the number seven. It's like strawberries and I want to put it in a jar and eat it later on toast."

"Fuck Jihoon,” Seungcheol gulps. “You’re—you’re so out of it."

"I am," Jihoon agrees with a comical bob of his head. "But I like your laugh when I'm not out of it? When I’m in it? Inside it?"

Not wanting to further his confusion, Seungcheol takes the towel back from Jihoon and blots him down as well as he can. Jihoon’s hair is standing up in stupid-looking tufts. Seungcheol runs his fingers through it, trying to slick it back into place.

When he finishes, Jihoon’s watching him dazedly. His eyes are still at half-mast, making him look almost sleepy, but there's a glint to his gaze that belies it. _Predatory_.

Within the space of a blink, there’s a shift that changes  _everything_  in Jihoon’s face and he wets his lips.

Jihoon rocks forward one step. When he next inhales, his chest brushes Seungcheol’s. Then he’s cupping Seungcheol’s cheeks and standing on his tip toes and…. kissing him.

Seungcheol inhales sharply.

Even frozen with surprise, Jihoon’s mouth is every bit as soft as Seungcheol imagined. It’s barely there, tentative and feather-soft, lips parted to trace his. A breath skates against Seungcheol’s mouth, and an unsteady huff meets his ears.

Seungcheol tilts downward, catches Jihoon’s lower lip between his, bumps their chins. Jihoon turns his head into it, and they slip into place, and Seungcheol can’t stop his exhalations, the harried weight of them, but Jihoon, Jihoon is breathing hard, too, an uneven rush through his nose.

He dips his head to the side, comes up at Seungcheol’s mouth from below, and when Jihoon’s tongue slips tentatively forward, Seungcheol's lips part for him, stillness melting away. And _then_  it blazes,  _then_  Jihoon’s tongue is hot against Seungcheol’s, and he tosses out all previous notions of what it means to kiss a person.

Jihoon, as it turns out, is on the noisy side. He gasps and groans and comes appealingly close to a whine once or twice, and he kisses like he needs it to  _breathe_ , his mouth hot and frantic against Seungcheol’s own

Seungcheol realises, belatedly that he hasn't really done anything to stop the kiss.

And he _really_ should. He _should_ be stopping this.

But, no—he’s just standing there with his arms at his sides, letting an intoxicated friend kiss him.

A friend who would _never_ do this under normal circumstances.

It's with jarring clarity that Seungcheol recovers himself, reality descending over his pheromone-fogged mind like a thunderclap. Guilt crashes over him, and he releases Jihoon's mouth, tenses to retreat. Apprehension winds tight in his chest as he opens his eyes—he doesn't remember closing them—to find Jihoon staring at him in winded shock.

“Jihoon—I’m sorry-“ Seungcheol begins to protest, just as Jihoon pushes away from his chest with a gasp and a wince.  

“Seungcheol—what the hell dude!” Jihoon snaps, mouth curled up in disgust, though not at Seungcheol, at himself.

Seungcheol lets his arm fall and just gapes at him uselessly. “I’m, I don’t—I’m,“ He sputters.

“Did you just kiss me?” Jihoon says accusingly.

Seungcheol doesn't have the fortitude to be offended. He doesn’t have the leverage really. But he does sound more than a little incredulous when he says: “What? No— _you kissed me!”_

Jihoon’s expression eases back from its wild surprise, something softer rising instead. “ **As if!** I don’t kiss like that. If I had have kissed you Seungcheol, I would have kissed you like this.” Jihoon says, grabbing Seungcheol’s face and pressing their lips together, again.

Seungcheol flails in surprise, but he doesn't fight the kiss this time either.

He's still muttering about how they _really_ shouldn’t be doing this and how none of this was his idea. Until Jihoon makes it physically impossible to talk, but Seungcheol doesn't really care, because his mouth is occupied in the best way, and there's a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing every few seconds like it can't help itself.

Seungcheol is a little too eager, and he's probably not coming over as suave as he'd like, but Jihoon's mouth is ruining him for everything else; tongue slipping hotly into his mouth, fisting Seungcheol’s hair and pushing him back against the wall roughly.

Defeated, Seungcheol lets his eyes flutter shut.

Jihoon’s a great kisser, he’s going to be the person Seungcheol judges everyone else against, and that is completely unfair if he never gets to do it again.

Just as he’s relaxing into the kiss once more, Jihoon bites his lower lip, hard, and wrenches his head back.

“Oh fuck! Cheol, _what the hell!”_ Jihoon gasps, shoving Seungcheol backwards. “You did it again! Control yourself man!”

“I didn’t—I didn’t do anything! You’re the one who started it.” Seungcheol says, quiet and breathless, and so much more forgiving that it would have been a second ago. Mostly because it's hard to be anything else after that kiss.

"I'm—oh fuck—I’m sorry," Seungcheol whispers. He is guiltily aware that he can’t blame Jihoon for this. That their bodies are still sharing intimate and inappropriate proximity. That he is apologizing for something he’s let happen twice and even enjoyed.

Hell, he’ll probably let it happen _again_.

He's a hypocrite of the worst sort for it.

He does not get to have this. He does not get to  _take_  this. Jihoon is not his to possess. "You’re right. I shouldn't have done that. I’m so sorry Jihoon."

Jihoon surprises him by looking something other than annoyed, some sort of brief, wry amusement that still manages to give the impression he wants to smack him. “Kissing me twice without my permission. That’s unacceptable Cheollie.” He tuts. “I should teach you a lesson.”

Seungcheol is genuinely afraid that's exactly what's going to happen, right up to the moment that Jihoon fists a hand in his shirt and pushes his mouth over his. Again!

For the third time that night, Jihoon’s kissing him, shaky and hard, murmuring words that Seungcheol can't quite catch. He suspects it's something to do with how this is all his fault, probably, and about how Seungcheol should know better.

And he _should_.

But he’s a stupid, horny Alpha and his mouth opens at the first pleading touch of Jihoon's tongue. Seungcheol’s lets Jihoon take, take, take with all the desperation bottled up inside him.

Seungcheol doesn't want to stop, but he recedes obediently when Jihoon finally pushes him away. They're both breathing hard. Jihoon's lips are pink and swollen from the kiss, and the sight leaves Seungcheol lightheaded.

“Typical Alpha—just taking whatever they want. It’s a good thing I like you so much.” Jihoon purrs.

It comes to Seungcheol, slower than usual, that he's pressed against a bathroom wall, by the significantly smaller Omega he's been aggressively crushing on. And he's more than half way to fully hard. He's not quite sure how that wasn't obvious before, but now it definitely is.

“Okay. Let’s get you back to the dorm.”

Something in Jihoon's expression falls, briefly. He looks about to say something, but whatever it is, Seungcheol doesn't want to hear it. He takes Jihoon by the arm again and leads him back out.

* * *

 

“Where is Jun?” Seungcheol asks, pulling Jihoon closer as he attempts to climb a table. “He needs to take him home.”

Soonyoung glances around the room briefly, “I think he hooked up—he was getting pretty chummy with a guy earlier and I just saw that guy grab his jacket. Think they bailed.”

"What the fuck?" Seungcheol says. "He just bailed? How could he leave Jihoon?”

"What the fuck!" Jihoon adds merrily. Because he clearly feels like he should be involved in the conversation.

"Wouldn’t you bail on your drunk roommate if it meant getting some action?” Soonyoung says.

“No. Of course not.”

Soonyoung scoffs. “You’re weird. I _totally_ would.”

Exasperated, Seungcheol lets go of Jihoon for a moment to press his palms against his eyes. Trying to decide what to do next. Then he feels Jihoon's hand on his shoulder, tentative.

"Laugh again," Jihoon says.

Seungcheol just gives a reassuring smile before turning to Jeonghan who has re-joined them. “He needs to sleep this off, we need to get him back to the dorm.”

“Well then—you take him.” Jeonghan suggests.

Seungcheol grits his teeth. “I don’t think I should.”

“Why not?”

“Cause he just—, “

_Because he just shoved his tongue down my throat and I don’t think I can control my impulses._

“Cause I just got here.” Seungcheol deflects, not exactly proud of himself.

Jeonghan snorts. “Put him in a cab, then.”

"Are you fucking serious?" Seungcheol says, "I’m not letting him get a cab alone. He won't be able to get himself there and he shouldn't be left alone like this.”

This whole night has been a bad idea.

"All right," Seungcheol says, grabbing Jihoon's jacket off the back of the chair. "Let's find you a cab." He says, taking Jihoon by the elbow again before he can over-balance.

"Are you _coming_ with me," Jihoon asks, inflection all wrong. He's probably not going to fall over, but he is swaying a bit, and he won't quite follow where Seungcheol is leading.

"Yes," Seungcheol says, as if he's got a choice. He's tried it before –shoving a body into a cab and shouting an address at the driver through an open window –but he'd never been quite sure how it actually worked out, and he can't quite bring himself to leave Jihoon to it.

Jihoon is fantastically delirious and shoving his tongue down people’s throats after all.

* * *

 

Seungcheol does find him a cab, and climbs in beside him, even though Jihoon hasn't managed to master moving over all the way. He gives the driver Jihoon's address, and shoves at Jihoon with his hip until they're both in far enough to shut the door.

“Woah—the room is moving!” Jihoon gasps as the car pulls away from the curb.

Jihoon asks the taxi driver to turn the volume on the radio up—then proceeds to sing along. Or tries to anyway.

He’s got such a pretty voice, but he’s so hilariously late on the uptake that Seungcheol finds himself laughing guiltily. Jihoon is going to murder him later. But for right now, they aren't in any danger, and listening to Jihoon sing along to a news bulletin, grinning and swaying in his seat is what Seungcheol calls high entertainment. Really,  _really_ high.

It's only 10 pm when they pull up to the dorms, but from Seungcheol’s experience rowdy conduct after hours can earn you a violation, so he warns Jihoon to be quiet as they go inside, at least until he gets him to his floor.

Jihoon schools his face into the most serious scowl he can muster and presses a finger to his lips. True to his word, he remains stone silent the entire way, leaning against Seungcheol in a way that could pass for friendly or romantic.

They probably look like a couple.

When Jihoon gets his card key out, he tries three times to swipe it before Seungcheol takes it from him and opens the door.

"Ahhh!" Jihoon says once they're inside his room. "It's so hard to be quiet sometimes when all you want to do is sing." He throws himself face-down on the bed and simultaneously starts trying to unbutton his shirt, murmuring about wanting to be comfortable when he wakes up with a hangover.

Trying to decide between helping him with his buttons (awkward,) or watching him struggle with them (awkward, amusing, sort of adorable,) Seungcheol decides to slip out into the corridor and buy some water from the vending machines. Jihoon’s gonna need to drink plenty to flush whatever is in his system, out.

By the time he slips back in, Jihoon has flopped onto his back and has given up on the buttons, instead just trying to flap his arms out of his shirt. Seungcheol watches this go on for a few seconds – because it is fucking funny as hell – and then sits on the bed next to him.

"Will you accuse me of feeling you up if I offered to help?" he asks, gesturing to Jihoon’s buttons. "I don't want to demoralize you in your moment of weakness, but it looks like your motor functions are failing you."

Jihoon pulls himself to sit up and says, "Please, demoralize me."

Seungcheol groans.

It actually takes him a second to get moving. Then he scoots closer to Jihoon on the bed and tries to look everywhere else as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. He can't afford to have Jihoon resenting him later or thinking he's some kind of pervert who would leer at him when he can't do anything to stop it. Even though—he totally is.

He can't deny, to himself at least, that he's thought about doing this under different circumstances.

"I've thought about this," Jihoon says. His voice is hushed now instead of boisterous, like he's sharing a secret. "I think about you taking my clothes off all the time.”

“Jihoon—I” Seungcheol hears himself whisper, and then he can’t untangle his tongue long enough to get another word out.

But Jihoon just presses on in a rush of honesty. “I fucked myself with three fingers thinking of you the other night.”

Seungcheol gapes at him stupidly, saucer-eyed.

Seungcheol usually doesn’t  _do_  saucer-eyed, but apparently this is just one more instance of Jihoon being an exception.

Normally, Jihoon's Mr. Put-Together, has been each of the several times they’ve hung out. Seungcheol’s not sure if the confession is a result of whatever is sloshing through Jihoon’s system or if he’s decided they’ve danced around this mutual attraction long enough.

The really important thing here is that Jihoon—trusts Seungcheol at least enough to let loose some very interesting information.

Unless Seungcheol just imagined hearing that. Or maybe it’s Jihoon’s idea of a hilarious sobriety test.

After a moment of stunned silence, Seungcheol gets his mouth to work. "Don't say anything you'll want to take back later.” He murmurs.

He finishes unbuttoning Jihoon’s shirt, chanting a lost-cause mantra of _patience, patience, patience_ , as he exposes more of that beautiful pale skin, trying not to surge forward and bite into Jihoon’s neck with brute force. Jihoon's slow, casual admittance—just the  _image_  of him fingering himself threatening to destroy Seungcheol’s will.

Finally he manages to get a t-shirt over Jihoon’s head, and moves on to divesting Jihoon of his shoes and his belt.

Taking off his shoes is no problem, but the belt is more personal and this time Seungcheol does let himself think about what he's doing. What it would be like to unbuckle Jihoon's belt while he's sober and completely himself. What it would be like to slide it out of the loops of his jeans and curl his hands around Jihoon's narrow hips. It's okay to think about that, because Jihoon's thought about it, too.

He’s tempted to forgo dressing Jihoon’s bottom half and leaving him in his boxers, but he determines that the more layers he puts between his dick and Jihoon’s ass is for the better. He kneels to help Jihoon dress in a pair of light joggers and Jihoon grips his shoulders, stepping unsteadily into the pool of fabric, ignoring Seungcheol’s repeated mutters of “fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

 

* * *

 

All this would be a lot easier if Jihoon would just fall asleep.

Something he refuses to do right now, because he’s very determinedly hoovering the dorm room with a vacuum cleaner that is neither plugged in, nor actually a vacuum cleaner.

Seungcheol calmly wrestles the lacrosse stick from Jihoon’s grip and is amused that the fake vacuum sucking noises Jihoon has been supplying abruptly cut off.

“Jihoon—pudding—please—you need to sleep it off.” Seungcheol says softly.

Jihoon leans into Seungcheol and casts him a loopy grin and says, “Okay. But only if you make me a sandwich.”

“It’s almost midnight.” Seungcheol points out. That comes out tighter than he means, verging on angry.

Jihoon pulls a face at him, lower lip trembling. “So? What, it’s too late for sandwiches? I’m not a gremlin. I can eat after midnight. And it’s never too late for a delicious sandwich. I’m so hungry and I haven’t eaten since lunch at school.”

Seungcheol gives him a sceptical look, making sure to hold Jihoon’s gaze…

…and is startled to find that Jihoon’s eyes are wet with tears. 

“Puddin,” he gasps in surprise, feeling horrible. He cups his hands gently around Jihoon’s face.  “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. You’re right, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

Jihoon lifts his hands and loops his fingers around Seungcheol’s wrists and looks straight into Seungcheol’s eyes, as forlorn as Seungcheol has ever seen him.

“Okay.” He murmurs.

Seungcheol considers leaving Jihoon in the room while he heads to the kitchens, but in the end he lets Jihoon follow him there, all the better to keep an eye on him.

* * *

 

Seungcheol’s crouched in front of the fridge, deciding which things would make Jihoon the best sandwich. Whether he's in a meat, or cheese, or a miscellaneous sort of a mood.

He's already sort of half in the fridge, stacking the ingredients for a delicious midnight sandwich in his arms. But Jihoon's quiet and so he twists around to look at him - and finds him sitting at the table with a napkin tucked into the collar of his t-shirt. There’s a knife and fork in both hands, and he’s staring intently at an empty plate.

Seungcheol has no idea where he even _got_ that napkin, or how Jihoon had the wherewithal to pull out a plate and cutlery. He hadn’t heard him move or open cupboards—which makes Jihoon some kind of table setting ninja.

When he sets the ingredients down on the table, Jihoon proceeds to instruct him on _how_ to make the sandwich.

“More butter, lots more butter.”

“Jihoon if I add anymore butter the bread will collapse.”

Jihoon sighs, loudly, and grumbles something which Seungcheol is sure is very rude and uncomplimentary. “Mayonnaise then, pile it on.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and starts unscrewing the Mayo jar.

“No! Don’t let the tomato touch the bread!” Jihoon hisses, then he throws his hands up in the air. “You’ve ruined it now. It’s all ruined. The bread is moist. Start over.”

Seungcheol sighs, long suffering and pulls out another two slices of bread. He takes out his sandwich making frustrations on the butter—perhaps stabbing it more aggressively then is warranted.

“Slow down. Make it slower Seungcheol. I like to watch.” Jihoon whispers.

Seungcheol conceals a grin, spreading the butter over a new slice of bread— _slowly_.

“That’s better. _Yeah_. Now—place the cheese on, _nice and slow_.” Jihoon whispers and Seungcheol feels like he’s participating in some kind of peculiar sandwich making Jenga or Tetris with how careful he’s constructing this snack.

On second thought, with how Jihoon’s guiding him, it’s more like sandwich making porn. Or fetish? Whatever it is—it feels very inappropriate.

He probably shouldn’t be getting excited.

“Wow, this is like some ASMR shit—but with sandwiches.” Jihoon whispers, watching the sandwich making with intent focus. “You should make YouTube videos. You could call yourself ASMR sandwiches. I would watch those videos all day.”

Seungcheol huffs out a breath of laughter. “I’ll think about it.” He says, cutting a few slices of cheese.

“Faster Seungcheol! I’m hungry dammit!” Jihoon snaps, suddenly becoming urgent.

The knife nearly flies out of Seungcheol’s hand. “Dammit Jihoon, you told me to go slow.”

Jihoon frowns up at him from behind a wayward lock of hair. “No I didn’t! I like it fast! Pile that bacon on there. More bacon! Now add the lettuce! Faster!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying—the lettuce is really fiddly.” Seungcheol cries.

“Where’s the Mayo? Lube it up with Mayo! _Maaaayyyoooooo_.” Jihoon says. He draws the word out, like he suddenly finds it fascinating.

Seungcheol scrambles to comply.

“Add some pickles!” Jihoon snaps.

“You don’t _have_ any pickles!” Seungcheol says, on the verge of panicking. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so stressed making a sandwich before.

Jihoon drops his head to the table. “Why can’t I have nice things.” He cries, as of stricken by the lack of pickles.

When Seungcheol finally assembles the sandwich to Jihoon’s liking, Jihoon tears into it like he hasn't eaten in weeks.

For a second Seungcheol thinks that Jihoon has possibly unhinged his jaw to eat faster, and he may be scarred for life.

"Jesus, baby," he says. "That sandwich didn't stand a chance."

Jihoon smiles like a cherub. "I really love sandwiches, you make good midnight sandwiches." He says, before gulping down a bottle of water. 

Then he goes quiet, like someone shut him off, staring at the discarded crusts on his plate.

"Everything all right?" Seungcheol asks, genuinely concerned with the sudden shift in his mood.

Jihoon shrugs in answer and gestures towards the floor, where a piece of bacon has fallen, like that explains everything. In Jihoon's brain it probably does.

“I don’t get it—do you want more bacon? Another sandwich?”

Jihoon shakes his head. There's this haunted, guilty expression, quickly followed by a tightness, that makes Jihoon look like he's regretting everything in his whole life. “I’m sorry, I dropped a piece on the floor. I didn’t mean to waste food. It slipped out of my sandwich.” He murmurs brokenly.

“Hey, It’s alright Hoonie.” Seungcheol says, bending over to pick it up and dropping it in the trash. He clears the table and returns the ingredients to the fridge.

When he turns back around, Jihoon’s face is going through some sort of complicated internal fight.

“Jihoon?” He calls out, and then Jihoon gives him the oddest look, like Seungcheol has done something strange and unexpected and Jihoon doesn't know what to do with it.

Seungcheol isn't sure whether that's a good thing or not.

"I know you. Sometimes I think I've known you for years. But you’re different to them. You’re nice and make me sandwiches and you don’t hold my hand on the stove when I’ve been bad.”

Seungcheol probably lets the silence go a little too long, after that statement. He finds himself just standing there, staring, with his guts slowly knotting into a cold, heavy lump. “What? Who’s them? Did this happen when you were younger?”

He isn't sure whether he's going to regret asking or not, but Jihoon refuses to confirm or deny that, but his face - his face is not under his control right now. He’s not looking at Seungcheol. He's  _not looking_  so fiercely it has to be deliberate, and when he shrugs the gesture looks stiff and... sad.

Jihoon looks sad, and Seungcheol feels his chest break open.

Lots of room, he thinks, for Jihoon to crawl in there.

Seungcheol isn't sure whether he can cope with this. He looks around the kitchen, attempts to grasp at something less disturbing. Something he can curl his fist around to ebb the building rage.

Thankfully, Jihoon eases the tension by releasing the tiniest burp Seungcheol has ever heard.

“Sorry.” Jihoon giggles quietly.  

Despite himself, Seungcheol grins. Even Jihoon’s burps are adorable. Seungcheol is so done for.

* * *

 

A well fed, drugged Jihoon is distinct from hungry, drugged Jihoon in tractability if nothing else. He smiles sweetly and goes along with Seungcheol’s suggestions, and it’s only a minute or two before Seungcheol has coaxed him back into his room.

Seungcheol wants to get him into a horizontal position more usual for unconsciousness, but Jihoon is intent on getting one final hug out of him.

Seungcheol puts a hand on his shoulder when Jihoon leans into him, but he doesn't quite stop Jihoon from pressing against him, warm and overly soft. Jihoon curls his fingers into Seungcheol’s shirt, and Seungcheol slips a hand around his wrist.

“You smell nice Cheollie.” Jihoon murmurs sweetly. “You always smell nice and it makes me warm.”

It could easily be an innocent expression, but Seungcheol can feel the heat of Jihoon’s mouth against his skin, can smell how his scent is becoming rich and sweet with excitement and he knows he needs to stop this now.

“You need to go to sleep now.” he says quietly but Jihoon is too close for him to give it the vehemence it deserves.

“But what about breakfast?” Jihoon chirps.

“You just had a sand-,” Seungcheol starts to argue, then determines a change in tactics is necessary. “We’ll get breakfast after you have a nap, okay?” He says, and brushes his fingers over the stuttering pulse in Jihoon's wrist.

Jihoon looks at him, hazy and confident. "Will you have a nap too?” He asks it very softly, so the words run together, and the only way Seungcheol can understand is because he is so very, very close to Jihoon’s lips.

He swallows thickly. “Yes. Yes, I just need to—brush my teeth and get changed and then I’ll come nap with you.”

Jihoon doesn't say anything, but he sits down very carefully on the end of the bed. He leans back on his hands, and the way he looks up at Seungcheol is almost playful. His cheeks are flush and his t-shirt dips low around his collar, and he looks so gorgeous and hot and too loose to be anything but wasted.

Seungcheol wants to crawl on top of him and slot their mouths and legs and hips together and fuck him, hard and fast and everything until Jihoon is his. He realises his own scent must be changing to accommodate that strain of thought, because Jihoon’s pupils flush just a little bit wider. His nostrils flare. Seungcheol can hear his own fucking  _breath._

Then Jihoon giggles and falls sideways across the bed. After a brief, tense moment during which Seungcheol checks his pulse to make sure he hasn't died or anything, he concludes that Jihoon is just sleeping. Sleeping quite uncomfortably, it looks like.

"Holy shit," Seungcheol mutters past the erratic staccato of his own heartbeat.

Delicately, he arranges Jihoon on the bed so that he's lying on his side, in case he does some mad thing like choke on his own vomit. Then he shoves a pillow under Jihoon's cheek so that he doesn't get a crick in his neck.

Jihoon makes a noise like "Cheol," curls his hand around the pillow and then snuffles into it. He's got a smear of butter on his brow (how the hell did it get all the way there?) which Seungcheol wipes away with his thumb before stepping back.

Jihoon is a sleepy mess, with his hair in disarray, lips parted in sleep, drooling into his pillow.

Still, he’s absolutely beautiful and Seungcheol has never wanted anyone more than he wants Jihoon right now.

He crosses the room, sits in the chair in the far corner, and tries very hard not to think about anything.

Occasionally Jihoon will make a noise like he's disapproving of something in his sleep and Seungcheol will counter with a vaguely soothing, shushing noise and he goes quiet again.

He waits until Jihoon has been out for about an hour, before determining it’s safe to leave him.

He’d rather not—he’d rather be here when Jihoon wakes up—but Jihoon will probably hate Seungcheol when he wakes up, or go running out of the room in mortification. There is the distinct possibility that Jihoon is going to remember absolutely none of this come morning. Which might be for the best, he realises.

When he gets back to his apartment, Mingyu’s passed out on the couch with a beer bottle spilling into the carpet at his feet. Seungcheol doesn’t have the energy to clean it up now or kick Mingyu awake.

He heads to his room, strips down and flops into bed.

As Friday nights go—this isn’t how he imagined spending his, but he finds no irritation there. He was hoping to spend time with Jihoon and he did— _technically_ —even if Jihoon wasn’t entirely compos-mentis.

Still, there’s something unsettling about some of the things Jihoon shared in his state, and the twist of emotions in his chest is agony.

Seungcheol lies awake for a long time trying not to think about it.

* * *

 

"Oww, Fuck," Jihoon groans when he jerks awake, and then regrets it because his voice is  _so loud_.

He's got a god-awful crick in his neck and a pounding headache and his mouth tastes blue.

He already hates everything about this morning.

He hates it even more when he realises that he’s in his bed, in his dorm and he’s wearing his sleep clothes.

Shifting to sit up against the headboard, he pulls the blankets around his waist and glances around.

Jun’s bed is empty and the clothes he was wearing last night are neatly folded over the chair in the far corner of the room.

He can't remember taking them off.

He can’t remember how he got home last night—and he’s pretty sure he didn’t have the motor coordination to change his clothes or— _eat bacon?_

 _Yeah_. There is _definitely_ an aftertaste of bacon in his mouth.

With an embarrassed groan, Jihoon realises _somebody_ must have hauled his drunken ass home, in some sort of embarrassing and overly dramatic way.

Jun must have brought him back (Lol), helped him change (awkward), fed him bacon? (WTF?) and—left again?

That _must_ have been what happened, because what other explanation is there? It hurts to think and his brain is fuzzy with distorted images from last night, but _one_ thing stands clear in his memory.

He kissed Seungcheol.

He _drunk_ kissed Seungcheol. Which is better than _sober_ kissing Seungcheol, but is still amazingly bad.

_Oh god. I’m so fucked._

Jihoon doesn't think that fully conveys the horror of the half-remembered things in his brain.

That settles it.

He's never leaving his room - he's possibly leaving his room to throw up, but that's it.

Thinking about throwing up makes something disturbing rattle to the front of his brain. Jihoon lets it sit there for a minute in the hope that it'll go away. It doesn't.

He just hopes Seungcheol was as drunk as him last night and won’t remember any of it.

He should probably avoid him for a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Soft Alpha Seungcheol taking care of drunk Jihoon....just something I had to write.  
> 2) Jihoon...probably makes an adorable drunk. Although he's kinda drugged in this fic.  
> 3) Just thought I'd fill in more backstory gaps between the fics in the series.  
> 4) Hope you enjoy! Feedback always appreciated.


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